well, this blog IS fundamentally about how much i love music...

the new tv on the radio cd is EXCELLENT. that is all.

Mourning Train - The Wallflowers

here is why my christmas sucked:

driving to florida in the rain.

getting to florida and realizing that all i packed was jeans and jean-related accessories. dude, it was almost 80 degrees every blessed day. florida is a fucked-up place.

the aforementioned heat didn't make me feel very christmASSy at all.

don't think you can shame me out of my packing dumbASSitude by claiming that it's florida. it's the PANHANDLE, dude. it's hot, but it's not EIGHTYATCHRISTMAS hot. geez.

dave took some photos of me and the boy and, at looking at them this evening, i realized how very pudgy i have become. the weight loss begins in earnest RIGHT FREAKING NOW. conveniently, this coincides with new year's. let it be noted that i never make resolutions, but totally have to start this year.

my dad has apparently forgotten what it is like to have a toddler at home. if he wasn't shooting dirty looks at us, he was saying NO or yelling or telling me how the boy has no discipline. he's TWO, for chrissakes. and for the record, it's not like emerson was swinging from the effing chandelier; he was touching the television screen, or putting his foot on the wall, or talking loudly or whatthefuckever, which are things that are perfectly acceptable at this house.

yup, we left a little early. couldn't take the heat, so i got out of the kitchen. or something.

also, the alligator left the pond in my parents' neighborhood. i really wanted to show it to the boy, but it apparently has moved on to greener pastures. or some other shitty metaphor. whatever.

got rear-ended. nothing says holidays like insurance adjusters.

my fam likes to watch shows like csi or bones. while my 2-year-old is in the room. hey, i'm all for gross-out autopsy shit. just not while the boy can see it. apparently, i am too uptight.

here is why my christmas was awesome:

my mother. enough said.

we found the best playground in the entire world, where emerson had the most awesome time every day. the second time we showed up, he said HOORAY! THE FUN PARK! wait, this should go on the suck list, because it is in florida and not here. damnit.

i got lots of dark black awesome licorice. and then i had to share it with emerson.

my dad really knows how to stock a liquor cabinet.

dave got me the smartwool sweater i've been coveting. yay!

got some awesome take-home photos of my grandparents.

here is why my christmas was neither shitty nor non-shitty:

twilight. will speak of this later.

eggnog. including brandy. see above. also, when my dad asked me if i'd take the eggnog home, i told him NFW, without the brandy. it contains the brandy now. heh.

the old navy in florida stocks shorts in december.



let me just tell you all that my kid fucking ruled during this trip. he was SO good, said please and thank you and excuse me, and was amazing in the car, and totally blew my mind. he was great. i was so proud of him. we are totally glad to be back home, though.

i, personally, will be glad when all this holiday (read: high expectations) shit is over. you?

The Wood Song - Indigo Girls

here is a photo of me at age five. this was when my family lived in ohio. i have snippets of little child-memories about that time. we went to sea world once. my friend next door cut her hair with scissors i gave her, and her parents went nuts. when my parents were out of town, my brother locked me and my grandparents out of the house when he was emerson's age, and scared us all to death. but the best thing i remember, the thing that stands out the most in my mind about that time is this tree.

i loved that tree as much as a child can love an inanimate object. i sat in that tree and talked to my dolls. i took stacks of books and read up there for hours. i watched the birds and the clouds and listened to the leaves rustling. i watched my brother run around in the yard while my mother chased him and my dad raked leaves. i never had a climbing tree like this again.

until i got to baylor. that campus was COVERED in trees that were amazingly friendly and climb-able. they just beckoned to me. and one of the things that dave and some of my other friends and i bonded over was the tree climbing. we found all the best trees on campus and were up in them as often as we could be. i would love to go back to campus one day and find those trees again.

there's just something special and freeing about sitting in a tree. i think it makes me want to pretend that i'm part of the tree. that i'm just an observer, looking down on the world below. sort of a camus-ian idea, i guess. the impartiality of nature. whatever.

our house here doesn't have a good climbing tree in the yard. but the park nearby has dozens, and i can't wait until emerson is old enough to explore them all with us. we'll teach him a thing or two.

edited to add: yes, that really is me. i looked like a boy. what of it, punks?

this annoyed me to NO END

airports rule for overhearing cell phone conversations. this is an actual snippet i caught from a 50-something guy with gray hair and a paunch.

"i'm like the wayne gretsky of sales."

this is wrong on so many levels, as far as i'm concerned. and what the fuck does it even mean, anyway?

please explain.

also, what is the weirdest thing you've overheard?

and while i'm at it, why would someone bring a cell phone convo into the office bathroom? this happened to me last week, and for a minute, i thought gee, maybe i should wait to flush until she's finished. and then i was all, fuck that. she's in a bathroom, what does she expect? and i wished i was a dude who could fart on command, because that sound effect would have been awesome. but the toilet flush was good, because then, she had to say oh, i'm in the bathroom. it's just weird.

Fraud In The '80s - Mates of State

i was at the airport today, because i'm on a business trip right now. sucks, because my whole sunday was pretty much ruined. i hate leaving on sundays. dave had to work, and i took emerson up to my in-laws for the day, so that i could catch my plane.

now, poor emerson had a rough night, which meant that we all had a rough night. at around 1:00, i heard him crying his little heart out. he NEVER does this, so i knew it would be rough. i went in, and he was lying there in his bed, as if he'd been petrified. i asked him what was wrong, and he said, I CRYING. i asked him why he was crying, and he said BECAUSE I SICK. instantly, i snatched him out of bed, only to discover that it felt as if someone had doused him with water. major diaper malfunction. i changed him out of his wet jammies, but decided to not change his sheets and instead brought him in the bed with us.

this decision, dave will tell you, was the wrong one. as it is cold, we have three cats in the queen-sized bed. add a flailing toddler, and it's a perfect recipe for NOT geting any sleep. so the boy was extra sleepy when i was trying to get him ready this morning, and even more sleepy when i tried to drop him at the in-laws. he screamed and cried and said, DON'T GO, MAMA! and i never felt so shitty as when i shut that door and raced to the airport.

security was a total fuck-up, and i finally got through, feeling harried and frazzled, and generally shitty about everything. and then a random guy came up to me and said, "your smile is beautiful. you should smile more often." and that was that. it was a really lovely moment, and made me feel pretty damn good. i mean, i woke up with a giant zit between my eyes, and barely had time to shower today, all the while trying to discipline my child, who was gleefully announcing I KICK EDWARD.

and then, THEN, a pretty handsome guy came up and introduced himself to me, and told me how pretty he thought i was and how he just didn't want to miss the opportunity to tell me that. the entire time i was flashing my wedding ring, but was secretly thrilled that a total stranger was flirting with me.

this sort of thing NEVER happens to me. i cannot emphasize that enough. NEVER. i am not cute or blond or cheerleader-esque in any way. i am almost six feet tall, currently weigh ten pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight, and generally look weird. so to have this sort of thing happen twice in one day is pretty freaking remarkable. especially since people keep uploading old photos of me to facebook, and i can see how thin and tan and pretty i used to be. i look NOTHING like that girl from over ten years ago, and have been bemoaning that fact a lot lately. makes me feel a bit like a fraud, i guess. some people have barely changed, but i? i look like a different person. heavier and paler and shorter-haired and weirder.

so today, the major compliments i received, despite my lack of sleep and my zitty face and my unironed shirt, were EXACTLY what i needed to give me a kickstart. thank you, random men. thank you. my husband tells me this sort of thing on a regular basis, but i always accuse him of HAVING to say so. it's nice to think that more than one person thinks i'm attractive, especially since i spend so much time thinking i'm not.

also,

i tried to send an email to terry, and both known email addresses kicked my message back. i see now that it is officially over. my phone calls lately have always been met with text messages about being supremely busy or washing hair or WHATEVERTHEFUCK.

ok. so officially, this is the end of a long-term friendship. and it sucks, big time. i didn't think i was such a fucking bad person that someone would never want to see me again, but here it is. it's happened. and you know what? FUCK THAT. that's what i say. if this is the choice terry is making, then that is terry's business. and terry will miss out on seeing my kid grow up and me being terry's friend and goddamn, i'm angry.

but i'm also kind of sad. but not really, because i guess i felt it coming, so maybe terry did, too. and maybe the lame comments i made were used as an excuse to cut ties with me. but jesus christ, it still hurts. it hurts that terry is throwing our history away. it hurts that people ask me ALL THE TIME how terry is doing. (anyone who knows who i'm talking about - stop asking. i don't effing know.) it mostly hurts that someone doesn't want to be my friend any more. it makes me feel pretty crap. i don't think i'm a bad person, but someone out there obviously does.

sigh.

Surf Wax America - Weezer

wax makes me think of hair removal. and i freaking hate shaving. i don't think i can tell you exactly how much i hate shaving. it's just so ESTABLISHMENT. you know what i mean? THE MAN says women have to shave, and we do. totally effing lame.

there were many, many years of my life that i didn't shave. and it ruled. i had a boyfriend during my senior year of high school who was a mountain biker. zack. he was lovely. he asked me out to coffee after ap english class, and i honestly couldn't believe it. it was like pretty in pink. the normal golden boy going out with the weird girl nobody knows anything about. but i went, and i really liked him. it was nice. and because he was a mountain biker, he shaved his legs. i loved that he shaved, and i didn't, and neither of us thought it was weird. it just WAS.

and then i went to college, and didn't shave. to be fair, i didn't much wear anything that showed even a hint of ankle, so very few people knew. gawd, i was modest. i guess it's fair to say i still am. i don't care to show off my legs, so i really don't wear shorts, unless i'm running. and even then, it needs to be a million degrees outside in order for me to wear them. i prefer pants in most every situation.

and pants are BRILLIANT since i hate to shave. oh, i do it when it's necessary, but i don't get why it is so damn necessary for women, like we need to be so ashamed of being hairy. dudes aren't expected to do it at all. dave has a beard, so he NEVER has to shave. he gets his hair cut and trims his beard, and that's it. women are expected to shave their legs and underarms, pluck any horribly stray eyebrow hairs, gawd forbid we find hairs anywhere else on our faces or we have to break out the tweezers or depilatory cream or run to spend thousands on electrolysis. and don't even get me started on the lady hair. because i still maintain that waxing down thattaway and spending money to be smooth and hairless there totally caters to the perv in men. because prepubescent girls look like that. no effing way, suckas. oh, i'll trim it up to be fancy, but i don't wax and certainly don't do this. and thank gawd that i was in the height of my no shaving phase when dave and i met, so his expectations are suitably low in that department.

oh, waaaah, you say. TMI. oh, please. you all think about this and have to deal with it on some level. suck it up. i just get completely irritated that there are such double standards. and i know, i know. dudes are starting to have to deal with it more. huzzah! now you can have a taste of the suckitude, too.

my morning routine includes putting on concealer so as not to traumatize anyone with my raccoon-like black circles. dave can just run out the door. nobody expects dudes to look perfect. i mean, look at the freaking television. men can look like anything and still be written as romantic leads and whatnot. but an imperfect girl is instantly the villain or the comic relief. i won't bore you with my angry diatribe. suffice it to say, i try to embrace my imperfections, because i have TONS. and as much as i would love to look and be perfect, it's not going to happen. so here i am. take it or leave it.

Shake It Off - Wilco

last night, dave and i went to a christmas party for management employees at his outdoor retail store. it was super awesome. i really enjoy his coworkers. they get outside and do things and have a good time and aren't nine hundred years older than i am. i don't think my office is having a shindig this year, and for that, i am actually pretty darn grateful. i don't have to dress up and act like i'm enjoying myself. whee!

while we were at the party, to which, i should add, i wore JEANS, which ruled, emerson spent the evening with my in-laws. there is something to be said for having family who lives close enough to babysit. and when we went to pick up the boy, he was lying on the couch with his nana, reading books and looking generally thrilled with life. when we left, i asked him to give his nana and papa hugs and, for the first time, he did so with APLOMB. he threw himself into their arms and hugged them tightly. it was a really sweet thing, and made me that much happier that we moved back here.

however, whatever joy i had for this was quickly diminished by my mother-in-law telling me that, during dinner, they gave emerson chicken strips from his cousin's plate. and he ate them. at home, emerson gets chik'n, and we call it chicken, and he really likes it. so it was probably terribly confusing when he was given real chicken and told that he could eat it. but goddamn it, folks. he's never had meat before, and today, he didn't eat ANYTHING. i'm betting that his little belly hurt.

dude. what the fuck, right? THEY GAVE HIM CHICKEN. REAL EFFING CHICKEN. now, some of you may be thinking, who cares? it''s just a little chicken. but that's not the point. the point is, NOBODY stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't a good idea. because i don't want him to eat meat. and he hasn't had any meat in over 2 years of life. and he's FINE. but my in-laws are from texas, y'all, and meat is like a freaking religion there.

i guess it bothers me that our wishes were totally thrown out the window. he asked for it, because it looked like the chik'n he's had, and he didn't know the difference. so because a TWO-YEAR-OLD asked for it, they gave it to him. that was actually the rationale. he asked for it. yeah. he asks to eat licorice for breakfast all the time, but i don't give it to him. ARGH.

obviously, the solution will be to station strategic boxes of chik'n at everyone's house, in the event that this happens again. he's also into eating veggie dogs, so we may have to bring those, too, to stave off the inevitable hot dog travesty.

my outrage has died down, and now i'm just tired. good night, y'all.

Special Someone - Geggy Tah

dave has been doing a number of home repair projects, as he's been off work all week. i would call him lucky, as i had a pretty shit week at work, but then i remember that he was screwing around in the attic and rewiring various things, and i think - hey! work wasn't that bad. he is totally my hero, because he put a light in the pantry. yes, for weeks now, we've needed a headlamp, as if we were spelunking, to locate anything in the pantry. but now, now there is a switch. and a light. dave WINS!

while he was working, emerson was most interested in the goings-on. and when dave drilled his finger, and bled, and needed a band-aid, emerson was especially interested. i think this was partially because the band-aid was orange. emerson asked dave for the orange band-aid, and dave told him that band-aids were for boo-boos. so emerson walked into the bathroom, smacked his hand on the counter and said NOW I HAVE BOO-BOO. he got his band-aid. and, of course, when dave pulled out the next band-aid, which happened to be blue, emerson wanted that one, too, to add to his collection. and when dave asked him if he needed the blue band-aid because he had another boo-boo, he smacked the counter again, this time with the other hand.

seems pretty clever to me, but then again, i'm his mama.

Snake Charmer - Rage Against The Machine

today, i picked up a people magazine at work. i'm not really sure why we get it there any more. we used to have a big office with lots of folks, and a lobby in which visitors could wait, while drinking coffee and reading shitty magazines. the coffee and shitty magazines remain, to be used by yours truly.

i can't remember the last time i picked up a people. this one was special, as it was the sexiest man issue, with hugh jackman on the cover. now, i will not deny, hugh jackman looks good. the inside of the magazine, though, is another story.

first, from the NO SHIT file:




next, though not a prude, i was a little amazed to find this photo and accompanying aricle about the hooker involved in the elliot spitzer scandal. does people mag actually think that the american public actually gives a shit about this girl? oh, wait. does the american public actually give a shit about this girl? and also, um, yeah. i bet it was strictly business. whatever.


third. i have never seen the show, but i am guessing that she is neither real nor a housewife. also, do we still say 'housewife'?

fourth. ok, so i did get caught up in the michael phelps thing this summer. he's a lovely, lovely boy. but i have to draw the line at a couple of things here. one, while i can assure you that you are not seeing pubes in this dark scan, it disturbs me a bit that i actually need to make that point clear. i remember during the olympics being terrified and secretly thrilled that his wetsuit might actually fall off, the boy wears it so low. and two, if you cannot read it, there is actually a little circle on his neck/shoulder area, imploring you to scratch and sniff his 'sexy smell'. i am one hundred percent serious. and i will have you know that i did NOT scratch and sniff michael phelps. i held it together, people. although i am sure he smells wonderful. not that i would know. or want to know. ahem.

and lastly, we have the back cover. i am a bit confused. the tagline on this one is 'hard to resist.' um, ok. actually, i wouldn't have such a hard time. what is with the skeevy facial hair? does emporio armani really want me to think that this, along with the skinny necktie are remotely attractive? i am CLEARLY not the target audience here, because all i want this guy to do is shower, shave, and put on a t-shirt or something.

i don't know that i'll be picking up a people again any time soon. i am so very clearly not their target audience. though, i'm honestly unsure what publications might consider me their target audience. when they start making a mag aimed at thirty-somethings who like punk, harry potter, and have shit decorating sense, enjoy fake bacon/sausage products and shopping at the gap while watching shows on national geographic, hey! let me know. i'm so there.